Prologue
The sun's rays were weakening. It's influence and power over the world was, once again, coming to an end. It's task of providing light and life to all living things was done for the day. It's grip on the lands below it was moments away from being lost.
The sun was now slowly crawling behind the mountains that made up the horizon. It crawled behind the mountains and into the refuge they offered. The sun's journey was nearing it's end. Now all that awaited the sun was a long rest before it will rise again and repeat the same task.
The old woman hurried home. The evening wouldn't last much longer and it wouldn't be long before all is plunged into darkness. She must hurry home while there is still some daylight left.
A hard day's work travelling along the road had certainly taken it's toll on the traveller. She had spent the entire day along the highway, situated on a comfortable woven rug surrounded by several pieces of fine pottery.
The old woman sighed. Today had not been good. She had spent the entire previous day working hard on this pottery. Each piece had been lovingly hand crafted and baked to perfection. Yet no matter how skilled the old woman was at her craftsmanship, she did not make any kind of sale. No matter what happened, all the folk who made their way on the highway, didn't stop to purchase the beautiful pottery, let alone purchase any. What made matters worse was that the old woman was on her own. She had to shift her heavy load, along with her rug, all by herself.
What was worse still was that earlier this morning, the village where she lived was rocked by a horrendous crime. Tongues were wagering about a murder. Someone had attacked a young woman during the night. Yet what made this murder disturbing was that while the body had disappeared, the head had remained.
Yes, the head had remained - it had been severed from the woman's neck, with a good clean cut and flung into the village square, for all to see. Although peculiar this act may be, what made it more disturbing was that this was the exact same fate for the other victims.
Yes, other victims - For the past few days, the town had been stalked by a murderer. Five had already been claimed and now, with this recent murder, the number was up to six. Six people murdered over six days. And six people murdered only wind up with their head severed and flung into the grounds of this village.
This shocking (yet bizarre) crime was the talk of the village. Already the villagers were worried. Who was the murderer? Why did he commit such heinous crimes? And if he decapitated his victims, what did he do with the rest of the body?
Thus, it didn't take much difficulty for the villagers to deduce that this was the work of a psychotic lunatic. A lunatic with the most bizarre of actions and motivations.
It was therefore with no surprise that the villagers paranoia was rising.
No, This day had certainly not been a good one.
But what did it matter? Things are already looking up for this evening. Right now, the old woman's mind was on other things. Namely, the thought of those nice baked potatoes she'll be having for dinner. Yes, the prospects were so good, she could taste them even now. And the thought of relaxing in front of a nice warm fire......
Alas, had the old woman not been enamoured of her plans for the evening, she would've picked up the sound of running feet, approaching her from behind. Had she turned around, she would've seen that the person running towards her wasn't the friendly type. Had she turned around she would've taken action against this strange man in a magenta robe with a freaky mask. And had she taken action, she would've run before he plunged that knife into her back.....
But it was not to be.
The old woman fell to the ground with a tremendous crash, her brain still reeling from the shock of the attack. And as her body hit the ground, her pottery rolled off her back and shattered onto the road. What took hours to construct was destroyed in mere seconds.
As the old woman gasped her last breathes of air, her eyes met the remains of her beloved pottery. Tears welled up in her eyes, when she saw the devastation before her.
It was there and then, her brain was struck by another revelation.
She was dead.
The murderer, the same murder she was reflecting on, the same murderer who was troubling her village, the same murderer who had killed six others over six days, the same murderer who had a reputation for decapitating his victims, had struck again.
Yes he had struck again and made his seventh kill in the process.
The old woman's eyes looked up, up towards her attacker, her murderer, her executioner. With a gaze that was both accusing and hateful, she stared up at the murderer.
And needless to say, his appearance truly vindicated his peculiar usage of methods in his despicable acts. He was dressed in a magenta robe that covered him completely. In his hand was a bloodied dagger. And his face was diguised under a truly demented looking mask. A truly demented looking mask bearing a laughing expression. A laughing expression that was obviously laughing at a sick joke. A sick joke that the murderer must have found funny because he began to laugh. A laugh that was at once both insane and triumphant. A laugh that burned it's way into the heart of his dying victim.
With this manic laughter ringing in her ears, The old woman closed her eyes.
It seems she won't be enjoying those potatoes after all....
Chapter 1
Contents